Parallelism in Prose

Author’s Note: I hesitate to write a post from my point of view as a speaker because I severely lack the wisdom, level of spirituality and experience found in all of the speakers previously mentioned. I fully acknowledge, and I only share this perspective due to its relation to form.

I shared my testimony in a Relief Society meeting a couple of years ago. It was going like a traditional testimony (is there such a thing?) until the very end when I felt the Holy Ghost prompt me to speak in a form that was foreign to me. I attempted to follow what it was guiding me to say, which was something like this:

I did not watch as they nailed Him to the cross, but I know His agony was real.

I did not look in the tomb, but I know that it is empty.

I did not feel the marks in His hands, but I know they are there.

I did not kneel at His feet and wash them with my tears, but I know one day I will.

I do not know all things, but I know He lives.

After the closing prayer, a sister came up to me and asked me if I was an English major. I thought this was a strange question, but she elaborated:

“There was something about the way you shared your testimony,” she said. “I’ve never heard someone speak like that (referring to the section above), and it was really moving.” 

After being in our class and listening to today’s discussion, I think the reason that sister found the testimony to be effective was partly because of the form it was delivered in. The parallelism in the prose, for which credit goes to the Holy Ghost, stood out to her and made the message resonate.

Using elements of literary form can give oratory a depth and richness, as long as the form rings true to the message.